


treasure

by seungchxn



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Anal Sex, Dragons, Fluff, M/M, Minor Injuries, Minor Violence, Swords, also sex, really soft sex, really the ending is just sappy as hell, they're soft and in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-21
Updated: 2019-10-21
Packaged: 2020-12-07 15:37:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20978288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seungchxn/pseuds/seungchxn
Summary: Jisung lives alone in a cottage in the woods. He's got a routine and a lifestyle and he does his best to stick to it - until one day he finds an injured dragon. He helps it heal and gives it a place to stay until it can fly again, thinking that that will be the end of things between them, but an evil from his past haunts him and Jisung can't defeat it on his own.





	treasure

Jisung loves walking through the woods.

It’s always so calm, peaceful, just the right balance of noisy and quiet. It’s the perfect place for him to go when he needs to get his mind off of something, when the nightmares get too loud for the stifling silence of his little cottage.

It doesn’t hurt that right now is blackberry season; he’s brought a basket with him and he’s picking berries as he goes. The basket is almost halfway full; he’ll have enough berries to make a pie and at least two jars of preserves by the time he has to return home.

He’s so lost in his thoughts, safe in the knowledge that he’s traveled through this area of the woods enough to know where he’s going, that he doesn’t even notice the dragon until he’s nearly standing on it.

“Holy shit!” He springs back with a cry when it bares its teeth at him, growling low in its throat.

It’s a tiny dragon, probably the size of a large dog, but that doesn’t make it any less terrifying. Blood red scales, inlaid with the occasional gold or orange one, create a blinding, almost fire-like image. It’s a beautiful sight, but the snarl on its face, exposing several rows of ridiculously sharp teeth, stops him from fully appreciating it.

For a moment they just stare at each other. Jisung is confused. Why isn’t it attacking? Or flying away? That’s when he sees it - a large jagged tear in the dragon’s right wing, which is bent at an odd angle as it tries to keep it from snagging in the underbrush.

The dragon, as if realizing that Jisung has seen his injury, pulls the wing in tight to its side, even though it’s clear it physically pains it to do so. Its growl grows louder, a warning. Jisung knows that sound, the sound a wounded animal makes when it knows it’s at the mercy of a predator, but refuses to back down. He made that sound himself, once.

Hands extended, he cautiously takes a step forward, ignoring the increasing volume of the dragon’s growl. “Hey there,” he says, voice low. “Hey. I’m not going to hurt you. Can I look at your wing? Can I help you?”

The dragon shrinks back, but Jisung isn’t deterred, stepping forward to follow it. “I promise,” he says, still using that low, calm, soothing tone of voice. “I promise I won’t hurt you. I just want to help you, yeah? I just want to help you heal your wing.”

The growl fades slightly as the dragon seemingly looks him over, noticing the lack of a knife or a bow. Jisung nods encouragingly. “See? I don’t have any weapons, yeah? I don’t have anything to hurt you with.”

Slowly he approaches the creature, hands still outstretched. The rumbling in its throat never fully dies away, but the dragon lets him approach, hesitantly unfurling its wing as he does.

Gently, kneeling at its side, Jisung takes the wing in his hands, holding it carefully. The tear is large, and clearly not very recent as signs of infection are already starting to show. He knows immediately that he won’t be able to do much more than clean this without the medical supplies he keeps in his cabin, which leaves him with a big problem: how the fuck is he supposed to get this dragon back to his home?

“I’m not going to be able to fix this out here,” he admits, even as he pulls out his waterskin to begin cleaning the wound. “I’m sorry, but the most I can do without my med kit is clean it, and it’s not going to heal properly unless its sewed back together.”

The dragon stops growling, and its head turns to face him, giving him an unreadable look. Jisung prays that what he’s about to say next is the right thing. “If you want, you can come back to my cabin. There’s food, and shelter, and it’s warm, and I can sew up your wing.”

With a loud snarl the dragon pulls away from him, immediately back on the defensive. Jisung doesn’t lower his hands from where they held the wing, and does his best not to flinch, even as it sticks its face right in front of his, hot breath blanketing him. 

“Please,” he says quietly. “Please, I don’t want you to die.”

That seems to strike a chord within the dragon. It freezes, going quiet, and simply stares at him for a moment. They lock eyes, this boy and this beast, until finally the dragon bows its head and nudges it’s brow into Jisung’s palm. 

It’s a heady feeling, to be so obviously trusted by something so dangerous, and Jisung revels in it, a beaming smile spreading across his face. “Thank you,” he says earnestly, stroking his hand gently over the ridge of scales on its forehead. “Thank you.”

\- - - - -

It’s an odd feeling to be walking alongside a creature of living legend.  _ Especially _ when said living legend is roughly the size of a dog. Jisung honestly can’t really believe it’s happening - what are the odds of him finding an injured baby dragon in the woods and taking it home?

He is a little worried; how did it get there? Does he have to worry about its mother coming to find it? What is he supposed to feed a dragon? What if he accidentally poisons it? That would be just his luck, wouldn’t it - find a dragon in the woods and then, after earning its trust, accidentally kill it.

They finally get back to his cottage. The sun is high in the sky and as Jisung opens the garden gate for the dragon, he tries not to regret that he didn’t get as many blackberries as he wanted. He can always go picking another time, although it’ll have to be soon so that he gets to the bushes before the bears do.

At his front door he pauses, turning towards the dragon, which is distractedly sniffing at some of the flowers he’s planted along the path. “Wait here, yeah?” he says. It eyes him suspiciously, immediately on its guard again. Jisung sighs. “I just want to go get a blanket set up by the hearth so that you’ll be comfortable, okay? Once we get started it might take awhile for me to fully sew up your wing. I don’t want you lying on the stone for the whole time.”

The suspicious gaze doesn’t soften, and finally he sighs again. “Fine! You can come in now. Far be it for me to want to spruce up the house before guests arrive.” He holds the door open for the dragon, who steps cautiously into the interior of the cottage.

Considering how barren the cottage was when Jisung first came to live there seven years ago, he’s quite proud of how cozy and homey it’s become. There was a time when he slept on the floor and the only thing he had other than his bedroll was a pot he could put over the hearth and cook in. Now, with a little hard work and a lot of mistakes, he’s managed to craft enough furniture to make the little one room cottage comfortable and lived in. He still cooks over the hearth, but he has more than one pan now, and he actually has a bed frame and a mattress.

Still, this is the first time he was having a stranger - albeit not a human one - in his house since he first moved in. He can’t help but feel nervous, as silly as that might be. He doesn’t have anything to prove to this dragon; he’s helping to save its life after all. 

“Let me grab a blanket,” he says, hurrying to the shelves he built five years ago when he got tired of storing his things on the floor. On the highest shelf is the quilt he uses during the winter, when it’s too cold to sleep with just a blanket. He has to stand on his toes to reach it, and he almost thinks he hears a huff of laughter from the dragon, but when he turns back around it’s eyeing him as warily as ever.

He grabs the kit where he stores his medical supplies and digs a needle and thread out of his sewing kit as well, then crosses the room to lay the quilt down in front of the hearth, careful not to lay it too close to the coals. The fire has been burning all day, slowly and steadily cooking the rabbit stew he put on the fire before he went berry picking. Jisung pats the blanket encouragingly. “Come on, lay down, get comfortable.” The dragon does so tentatively; while it does Jisung stands and goes to grab his stool and a bottle of alcohol. He has no idea if alcohol affects dragons, but he doesn’t have anything else to help dull the pain.

He sets the stool next to the dragon, who has curled up, almost like a cat, on the quilt. As he sits, it shakily extends its wing and rests it on his lap. Jisung gently maneuvers the wing so he can reach the tear; it’s a nasty gash, the thin part torn entirely in two. He hopes that he’s able to sew it back up correctly; it would be a shame for a dragon, especially a baby dragon, to never be able to fly again.

He debates heating up the needle to sterilize it, but ultimately decides to just pour alcohol on it. Which reminds him; he cleaned the wing out in the forest, but it could probably stand to be cleaned again. “I’m going to pour this over the tear,” he says as he uncorks the brandy bottle. “It will probably sting, but it should disinfect it. It’ll numb it too, which is good because it’s going to take awhile to sew up a gash this big.”

The dragon huffs, a puff of smoke billowing from its mouth, and Jisung makes a mental note to worry about fire breathing later. For now though, he’s got more important things to worry about.

It takes him awhile to stitch up the wing. He has to take occasional breaks to stop his fingers from cramping, and more than once, the dragon shifts to get more comfortable and Jisung has to adjust his stool. Finally, though, he makes the last stitch and ties off the thread.

“All done!” he says cheerfully, packing away his supplies. “And just in time too - it’s nearly supper. I hope you like rabbit stew. I hope you can eat rabbit stew, for that matter.”

The dragon snorts, which Jisung takes to mean that it can, in fact, eat rabbit stew. He hopes so anyway, because the only other meat he currently has is in the smoker outside, which will preserve it long enough to last him through the winter. He doesn’t fancy the idea of having to go through all his meat reserves just to feed his guest.

After cleaning up everything, he dishes a bowl of stew for himself. He’s about to dish out another one for the dragon, but one look at its face is enough to remind him that its mouth is far too big to fit in one of the hand carved bowls he has. Jisung sighs, but dishes out three more bowls and takes them to store in the underground cubby that acts as his makeshift icebox. He takes the pot and what’s left in it, and sticks it in front of the dragon. “I didn’t think you’d be able to use a bowl,” he says when it eyes the cauldron skeptically. He settles down in front of it and begins to eat his own food. “This is the best dish I have for you to eat out of, sorry.”

He’s not expecting a response - after all, it hasn’t really done anything so far other than huff at him. This is why he chokes on his stew when it opens its mouth and says, “That’s quite alright. I’m grateful that you’re feeding me at all.”

Jisung splutters.  _ “Holy shit,” _ he swears, wiping at the stew spilling down his chin. “You can talk?”

The dragon looks up from the stew it’s quickly devouring, long enough to eye him critically. Jisung is pretty sure if it had eyebrows, one would be raised judgmentally. “I’m a creature of human mythology, one that shouldn’t even  _ exist, _ and you’re surprised by the fact that I can  _ talk? _ ”

Jisung’s face grows hot. “Shut up,” he mutters defensively. “It’s been a weird day, alright?”

The dragon laughs, although it’s less a laugh and more a soft huff of air. It would be almost cute, if the laugh wasn’t paired with a smile that exposes every single one of the dragon’s fangs. “Well, would you like me to apologize for that?”

“No, don’t worry. I said weird, not bad; there’s no need to apologize for that,” Jisung blurts and, okay, he sounds like he’s a character from one of those romance novels his sister used to read. “I don’t think I’ve said this yet, but I’m Jisung, by the way.”

The dragon smiles again. “Woojin,” he says. “My name is Woojin.”

\- - - - -

Woojin turns out to be one of the nicest beings Jisung has ever met.

Maybe it’s just because he’s been living on his own for so long that he’s so happy Woojin is here. It’s been seven years since he’s had any kind of regular contact with anyone and every time he asks a question out loud only to hear someone else answer him, he has to stop himself from beaming.

“How old are you anyway?” he asks as he does the dishes. Woojin had slunk outside after him, resting his head on his talons as he watches Jisung bent over the bucket of water he just pulled up from the well. “You look a little young to be out by yourself.”

Woojin snorts. “How young do you think I am, Jisung?”

Jisung flushes, pointedly not looking at the dragon. He has a feeling the next words to come out of his mouth are going to be  _ very _ wrong. “I don’t know… You’re just so tiny?”

Woojin laughs, that same funny little huff of air from earlier. “Would you believe me if I said I was twenty-two?” 

“...Yes?”

“You can say no,” Woojin says, amusement heavy in his tone. “I won’t be offended.”

“It’s just, well…” Somehow Jisung blushes harder than he already was. “You’re the same size as a dog I used to have… I always thought dragons would be bigger, you know?”

“I’m supposed to be. Most dragons  _ are  _ bigger.” He sounds a little put out about it, and Jisung hesitates before asking his next question.

“Why are you so small then?”

“All dragons are like this until we find our treasure.”

“Treasure?” Jisung stands, bowls clean, and makes his way back to the cabin. He turns at the door and looks back in time to see Woojin stand up and stretch like a cat, before ambling slowly towards Jisung.

He doesn’t speak until they’re back in the house, Jisung sitting on his couch with a mug of tea while Woojin curls up on the quilt, still in front of the fireplace. “Your mythology talks about dragons hoarding things, yes?”

Jisung nods and takes a sip of his tea. “Yeah. Apparently your race is vicious when it comes to the protection of your hoard. That’s where the legends of knights killing you for treasure come from.”

“Well the legends are wrong. We don’t have hoards; humans have just only ever encountered those of my kind whose treasure is gold.” Woojin’s tone is laced with disdain. “Your kind is very greedy.”

“Believe me, I’m aware,” Jisung replies. “Why do you think I live in such isolation?”

Woojin doesn’t have eyebrows to raise skeptically but there’s no other way to describe the look he gives Jisung. Jisung stares back at him, determined not to say any more than that; no matter how excited he is to have someone to talk to, he’s not going to spill his entire life story tonight.

Sighing in defeat, Woojin says, “Anyway. My kind don’t hoard things; we have a singular treasure that we guard with our lives. We stay this size until we find it, and then grow to whatever size we need to be to properly protect it. Most of us find it by the time we turn twenty.”

“And you’re twenty-two.”

Woojin nods. “Exactly. I got tired of waiting at home to see if my treasure would appear and decided to go looking for it.”

“How long were you traveling before you got hurt?”

If a dragon could blush, Woojin would have at that moment. He pointedly turns his gaze from Jisung, who watches with a growing look of amusement on his face as Woojin mutters, “Two days?”

Jisung bursts into peals of laughter, ignoring the glare Woojin shoots his way. “Sorry,” he chokes out, trying to bring himself back under control. “Sorry, just - you set off on this whole quest and tore your wing two days in?”

“There was a storm the other night,” Woojin says sullenly. “I tried to land, but the wind caught me and I was thrown against a rock and tore my wing. I was hoping I could walk back home before it got too infected.”

“How far is your home from here?”

“By flight? Less than a day if I didn’t stop to sleep. On foot?” Woojin’s next words are grim. “Probably two weeks.”

“Well then,” Jisung says, abruptly sobering up. “I’m glad I found you instead. Infection was already setting in; you would have been dead long before you could get home.”

There’s a quiet moment where they just sit there. Woojin tentatively burrows deeper into the quilt, but other than that the only movement is the flames jumping in the fireplace. Finally Jisung breaks the silence with a yawn. “Sorry,” he says, covering his mouth, the etiquette training he had as a child kicking back in in the presence of someone else. “It’s been a long day.”

“I agree,” Woojin replies with a little huff of laughter. “Shall we call it a night?”

Jisung nods. “I need to be up early tomorrow anyway; my berry picking was interrupted today, I need to go get more so I can make preserves.”

Woojin almost seems hesitant when he asks, “Can I come with you? It’ll be nice to see the forest when I’m not worried about dying.”

Jisung nods, putting his mug down and standing up to stretch. “Of course,” he says around another yawn. “You’re my guest, not my prisoner.”

“Thank you. And if you ever need any help, I’m more than happy to provide it. I probably won’t be able to do much in the house, though… I could go hunting for you maybe?”

Jisung laughs at how eager the dragon looks to go hunting for him and, on a whim, reaches out to pet his head. “We’ll see. I might take you up on that.”

Once again he gets the impression that if dragons could blush Woojin’s face would be beet red. “Let me know,” he says, pointedly not looking at Jisung. “I don’t want to be a drain on you, and I’m probably stuck here until my wing heals.”

“That’s fine. And you won’t be a drain; it’s nice to have someone to talk to again.”

A funny look crosses the dragon’s face. “If you don’t like being alone, why do you live all the way out -”

“Good night, Woojin,” he says pointedly, crossing the room to crawl into his bed.

Woojin stares at him from the quilt by the fire. The look on his face is unreadable; Jisung thinks this won’t be the last time he asks that question. Finally, he sighs and settles back down into the quilt. “Goodnight, Jisung.”

\- - - - -

When morning comes, Jisung cleans Woojin’s wing again, rebandages it, and then makes them food. Woojin apologizes for not being able to help and Jisung tells him to shut up; it’s not like there’s anything he can do about it, so why bother?

This develops into a routine over the next several weeks. Every morning, they repeat the same song and dance. It gets to the point where they just argue about the same things every morning too. For anyone else, this might be too repetitive to the point of being dreary. For Jisung, starved of contact with most living beings since he was fifteen?

For Jisung it’s heaven.

The routine holds steady for two months, before there are any interruptions.

Jisung wakes up to the sound of someone knocking on his door. At first he’s confused - who could it be? Then, remembering, he bolts upwards in bed.  _ Jinyoung. _

Woojin is crouched by the fire, staring at the door. He’s growling low in his throat and Jisung’s heart aches strangely at the thought that Woojin was prepared to protect him. Still, it’s unnecessary, and Jisung is really glad Woojin hasn’t tried to attack yet.

“Down, boy,” he says as he springs from bed and hurries to the door. Throwing it open, he beams at the person on the other side. “Jinyoungie!”

“Jisung!” The older man’s cry is equally as joyous and he throws his arms around the younger without a second thought. “How are you! It’s been ages.”

Jisung giggles. “It’s been four months, Jinyoung, not four years. And I’m good, thanks for asking.”

“Good, good. I’ve brought food, let me in.”

“Um, Jinyoung, before you come in, there’s something you need to know.” Jisung is desperately trying to block Jinyoung from getting in the door; he’d like to explain the dragon before Jinyoung sees him.

“Why?” Jinyoung frowns. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, just… I’ve got a house guest?”

Immediately Jinyoung stiffens. “What?”

“I said, I have a-“

“I heard you the first time; Jisung I thought we’d talked about this?”

“We had but-“

“No one is allowed to know who you are, no matter who  _ they _ are-“

“Jinyoung, I swear, it’s -“

“You  _ can’t  _ afford to let people know where you live, it’s not safe -“

“Good thing,” a new voice cut through their jumbled conversation, “that I'm not technically a person then.”

Jinyoung looks over Jisung’s shoulder, ready to confront the speaker, and goes very pale. “Jisung,” he says softly. “Jisung, there’s a dragon in your house.”

“I know.”

“You - what?” Jinyoung stares at him with wide eyes. “Jisung, why is there a dragon in your house?”

“His name is Woojin, and he’s my guest.”

“I’m so confused,” Jinyoung whispers.

“That’s - yeah that’s fair. Here, come in. We’ll explain everything.”

\- - - - - 

Jinyoung is, probably somewhat reasonably, confused and upset about everything. He’s incredibly wary of Woojin, seemingly convinced that he could snap at any moment and kill them both. He seems to understand that Woojin means a lot to Jisung though, and begrudgingly accepts that. 

Finally, after they eat lunch, Jinyoung announces he has to get back to the village. “I told someone at the market that I was going out to check my traps; I can’t spend all day out here with that kind of excuse.”

Jisung pouts. “Do you really have to go?” Sometimes if he makes himself look pitiful enough, Jinyoung will agree to stay for a few hours longer.

Today though, Jinyoung just shakes his head. “Sorry, kid. Not today. Before I go, though, can I speak with you alone?”

“Yeah, of course,” Jisung said, already pretty sure he knows what Jinyoung is going to want to talk about. “I’ll see you out.”

“I’ll clean up,” Woojin offers, and Jisung whirls on the dragon, finger pointed like a scolding mother.

“Oh no you don’t, mister! Last time you tried to clean up you set three of my bowls on fire.  _ Three! _ I’ll clean it up when I get back, understood?”

“Jisung -“ Woojin whines, and pouts at him as best he can. Given that he’s a dragon and has limited facial expressions, it’s not very effective. 

After extracting Woojin’s reluctant promise not to go anywhere near the dishes, Jisung follows Jinyoung outside, carefully shutting the door behind them. “What did you want to talk about, Jinyoungie?”

Jinyoung whirls on Jisung. “A dragon? What the  _ hell,  _ Jisung, you adopted a motherfucking  _ dragon!? _ What were you thinking?”

Jisung hugs his body, uncomfortable. He’s never liked being yelled at. “I was thinking that he was hurt and it wasn’t okay to just leave him there to die.”

“And what, did you just decide to fall in love with him too while you’re at it?”

“Woah, what?” Jisung is  _ very _ confused. “Who said anything about falling in love with him?”

“You didn’t have to say it, the way you look at him is evidence enough.”

Jisung shakes his head, laughing incredulously. “No, no, you’re wrong. Woojin is just a friend.”

“Is he really, though? Think about it.”

And the thing is, the more Jisung thinks about it the more it  _ does _ make sense. The strange way he feels when they curl up together next to the fire at night, the way his heart seemed to skip a beat this morning at the thought of Woojin trying to protect him, even while injured. 

_ “Holy shit,” _ he breathes.  _ “I have a crush on Woojin.” _

\- - - - - 

Jinyoung finally leaves and Jisung goes back into the house and Woojin is laying on his bed, having dragged the extra quilt onto it for a blanket, and Jisung feels his heart melt as Woojin flashes him a toothy grin and he thinks,  _ “How could I not have realized this before?” _

\- - - - -

Jisung wakes up from a lovely dream to the feeling of hot air blowing on his face. 

“Go away,” he mumbles sleepily, swatting at whatever it is causing the sensation. His hand makes contact with something hard and scaly and then in the next moment something soft and sticky licks his hand and his eyes shoot open as he bolts upright in bed. “Holy fuck!”

Woojin is sitting with his head resting on the side of the bed, right next to where Jisung’s face just was. He laughs. “Good morning, Jisung.”

“Holy shit, Woojin, what the hell?”

He laughs again. “I thought your face would be funny, I couldn’t resist.”

“Shut up,” Jisung says, trying to not blush. He’s always been jumpy, something Woojin likes to exploit, to Jisung’s extreme embarrassment. He looks away from Woojin and that’s when he sees it - the dragon’s tail is swishing back and forth as he laughs.

“Hey, Jinnie,” he says, a sly grin on his face. “Did you know that you wag your tail like a dog when you’re happy?”

Now it’s Woojin’s turn to shrink back in embarrassment. “Shut up,” he says, a pout evident in his voice. “I can’t help it.”

Jisung laughs and launches forward to wrap his arms around Woojin’s neck and stroke his back. “Aww, cute! Who’s a good boy? Who’s the goodest boy?”   
  


“Jisung!”

Jisung pays the dragon no mind. “I’m so lucky to have found such a lovely stray dog in the woods,” he remarks, even as he pulls back and clambers out of bed. “Now, if only he knew how to play fetch; that would be lovely.”

Woojin glares at him. “I am  _ not _ a stray dog.”

“No,” Jisung replies, grinning cheekily down at the dragon. “Unlike a stray dog, you actually come when called.”

“Oh, that’s it!” Woojin growls playfully, leaping forward and knocking Jisung back onto the bed. He climbs on top of him and suddenly Jisung has a lapful of dragon. He tries to ignore the way Woojin being on top of him makes his heart feel funny.  _ I do not want to fuck a dragon, _ he reminds himself.  _ Well, not  _ just _ fuck him, anyway _ , the unhelpful part of his brain says.

This isn’t anything new; Woojin has been staying with Jisung for four months now, and Jisung has spent the second half of those four months wrestling with the fact that he has a quickly growing crush on a fucking  _ lizard.  _ He’s not sure what the moral implications of that are, but he’s also not planning on confessing anytime soon so he figures it doesn’t necessarily matter.

“Woojin, get off of me!” he wheezes, shoving futilely at the dragon.

Woojin simply stares down at Jisung, judgement radiating from him. “I thought you wanted a dog, Sungie. What if I’m a lap dog, not a stray?”

“Woojin!”

Woojin just yawns and nuzzles his nose into Jisung’s shirt. He’s clearly not planning on going anywhere anytime soon and he’s not actually all that heavy  _ (“I have to be able to  _ fly,  _ Sungie, did you really think I was going to weigh a lot?”) _ so Jisung resigns himself to taking a nap. It’s early; he doesn’t really have anything to do today other than check the rabbit traps and those can wait.

He closes his eyes, happy to sink back into a deep sleep. 

\- - - - - 

By the time seven months has rolled around, Jisung and Woojin spend most of their free time cuddled together. No matter how much he denies it, Woojin is essentially a giant lap dog and Jisung loves it. He’s spent so long by himself that the level of physical contact they’ve developed is wonderful. He was always a clingy child and that side of him, repressed for seven, now almost eight years is back in full force.

Jinyoung has come around a couple of times since first meeting Woojin. He’s grown a little less wary, but he always makes sure to tease Jisung about his crush. 

(He also makes sure to express how crazy he thinks it is that Jisung has a crush on a lizard, but Jisung is  _ also _ aware of how strange that makes him so he can’t really tell Jinyoung to stop.)

For now, Jisung just cleans Woojin’s wing, replaces the stitches when necessary (it’s taken  _ seven months _ for some of the cuts to heal which seems crazy to him, but Woojin assures him that it’s normal. Dragons have slow healing periods; it’s why if they get too injured in a fight they’re really easy to kill off). As he helps Woojin heal, he tries not to think about how this will lead to the dragon leaving him. For the most part he fails.

One night they decide it’s too hot to sleep in the little cottage. It’s the middle of summer, after all, and with the fire simmering in the hearth as Jisung slow cooks some potatoes, it’s simply too much. So they take the quilt (it’s Woojin’s quilt at this point, really, no matter how much Jisung tries to think otherwise) and set it in the middle of the clearing and curl up to go to sleep.

Woojin falls asleep before Jisung does, snoring softly. Jisung can’t bring himself to close his eyes though and instead just stares at the stars for hours. Everything just feels so peaceful; he never wants this moment to end. He could stay here, cuddled up to Woojin, his head pillowed on a scaly stomach, forever.

That’s when it hits him: this isn’t just a crush anymore.

_ He’s in love with Woojin. _

\- - - - -

He takes his realization surprisingly well, manages not to make it obvious. Still, it haunts him, the knowledge that he’s in love with someone who will inevitably leave him constantly at the forefront of his mind. There’s nothing he can do though; Woojin has to find his treasure.

He talks about it sometimes, his treasure. Even if he doesn’t know what it will be, Jisung can tell he loves it already; the reverence in his voice makes that obvious enough. There’s no way Jisung can try and be selfish and keep him here when the longing in his eyes is so clear. So Jisung resigns himself to his fate. He’s in love with Kim Woojin. And Kim Woojin will never know, or love him back.

\- - - - -

“Jisung, are we almost there?” Woojin is panting, his tongue lolling out of his mouth, clearly out of breath. Jisung holds no small amount of pride about the fact that he’s more in shape than a dragon.

He chuckles. “Yeah, almost, Woojinnie. Just a little bit further, I promise.”

Finally the trees start to thin out and the forest grows more sparse until it’s turned into a grassy meadow, filled with flowers. Jisung hears Woojin stop walking as he stares, but he himself doesn’t stop, just keeps walking towards the spring which lay in the shade on the other side.

He lays out the blanket he brought, close enough to the spring to be a little bit shaded, but far enough that they can still get some sun. As he goes about pulling food out of the basket he brought, he privately congratulates himself for coming up with such a good idea. Woojin had been complaining about being stuck in the house for the past week as Jisung worked on his garden. Taking the dragon on a picnic seemed like the perfect way to break up the monotony of Jisung’s simple life. 

When he finishes he turns back to Woojin, who is still standing at the edge of the meadow. “Well?” he calls. “Are you coming? Or are you just going to catch flies all day?”

Woojin snaps out of his daze and glares at Jisung, padding gracefully across the meadow to the blanket. Jisung tries not to think about how cute it is that he avoids stepping on any of the flowers.

“This is lovely, Jisungie,” he says when he gets close enough to the blanket to talk without needing to shout to be heard. That’s one thing Jisung has picked up about Woojin in the last ten months; he hates raising his voice, prefers waiting until everything is calm before speaking. (Jisung definitely doesn’t think that level of control is hot, not at all). “How did you find this place?”

“I spent a lot of time exploring this area when I first got here. I was young, and on my own, and I was doing my best to create a life for myself at the same time as I was learning life skills I’d never had before. This became my safe space, a sanctuary I could retreat to when it all became too much.” Jisung pointedly doesn’t look at Woojin as he talks. In the nearly year-long amount of time they’ve spent together, Jisung has never told Woojin this much about his past. He knows the dragon has questions; Jisung has been far too cryptic about it for him to  _ not _ have questions. He’s never pressed Jisung for answers though, seemingly understanding that it wasn’t something Jisung liked to share.

This time, though, it seems he’s not as content to let Jisung get away with keeping his silence. As he settles onto the blanket, his head on Jisung’s lap, he says, “Sungie, can I ask… Why are you living out here by yourself? You always talk about it like you didn’t have a choice.”

“I didn’t.”

They sit there in silence for a moment. Absentmindedly, Jisung starts petting Woojin’s head. It’s soothing, the feeling of smooth scales under his fingers. If the way Woojin starts practically purring is any indication, it feels good for the dragon too. 

“I don’t like to think about my life before,” Jisung says suddenly. He doesn’t know why he’s finally opening up about this; maybe it’s the meadow. It makes everything feel safe, closed off from any worries the outside world might bring. “Everything was so different back then. I had a family; I was happy. Not that I’m not happy now,” he’s quick to assure Woojin, “but it was different.”

“What happened?” Woojin’s voice is soft and Jisung closes his eyes, letting his soothing tone wash over him.

“Bad men,” he says. “I’d always known there were people who didn’t like my father; he had radical opinions and a lot of people weren’t fond of him. Thought he was too progressive. Eventually, they weren’t content with yelling at him and one night a group of men broke in. They lined us all up, me and my mother and father and sister, and I watched as they killed all of them.” His voice is monotone in an attempt to keep it under control; he hasn’t thought about that night in years, but the hurt and horror feels just as fresh as it did then. “They were about to kill me when a group of my father’s men arrived. They fought them off long enough for Jinyoung to get me out of there. I hid for a few months with his sister in the next town over, but the men wanted to finish the job, make sure I wouldn’t come back for revenge. They tracked me down, which is when Jinyoung brought me here. I’ve lived here ever since.”

There’s a moment of silence before Woojin abruptly stands up. Jisung is confused, but then Woojin turns and uses his nose to shove at his chest, knocking him over. Without another word, the dragon crawls on top of him and curls up. Almost automatically, Jisung wraps his arms around him. He’s come to love cuddling like this, strange as it sounds. It doesn’t seem like the most comfortable position, but Jisung enjoys it, loves the way that it makes Woojin’s presence seem that much more solid and real.

“It’s okay to cry, you know,” Woojin says softly. “That’s something horrific that you witnessed; you don’t have to be strong about it.”

Jisung has never cried about what happened. At first he was just numb, unable to really feel anything. He has vivid memories of staring at his father’s corpse, blood pooling around him, and just not feeling anything. His mother had screamed and his sister had tried to hold her back as she fought to get to her husband. It didn’t matter in the end, though, because in the next minute there was a knife embedded in first his mother and then his sister. They joined his father on the floor.

Jisung remembers closing his eyes, knowing he would be next. The men had taunted him for being so calm, for not showing emotion after watching his family die. And he hadn’t. He’d kept his emotions about the event locked up tight for years.

Now though, lying on a blanket in the warm sun, surrounded by the illusion of safety and security that the meadow brought, with the one he loves in his arms, he can’t help it anymore. He cries. For the first time in seven years, he lets go.

\- - - - - 

Later, after he’s composed himself, they eat the food he’s packed. Well, Jisung eats it. Woojin wades into the spring and amuses himself by catching fish as they swim up to inspect this strange creature. After, Jisung lays back on the blanket and watches as Woojin stretches his wing. The skin has been very slow to heal, and the last of the stitches was only able to come out a week ago. Woojin estimates it’ll be another month before he’s able to fly again. Jisung tries not to think about that; while he’s happy Woojin will have his mobility back, he knows that he’ll probably leave once he does. 

He does his best to ignore the way his heart sinks at the thought of losing Woojin.

Finally, the sun sinks low enough in the sky that they need to leave, and Jisung begins to gather up the picnic things while Woojin chases after a rabbit. He chuckles; for all that he likes to complain he’s not like a dog, Woojin doesn’t seem to realize how he acts.

“Jinnie!” He calls, standing back at the edge of the clearing where they first entered it. “Jinnie, it's time to go!”

Woojin snarls playfully, and snaps at a rabbit as he lunges forward. He doesn’t catch it; he could if he wanted to, but they’ve got enough at the cottage that it would just be wasteful. “Go on without me, Sungie,” he replies. “I’ll be there in a few.”

Jisung smiles fondly at him. “Okay. Don’t take too long, yeah? I’m going to start dinner when I get back.”

Woojin doesn’t respond, already busy chasing the rabbits again, and Jisung simply sighs fondly before turning to leave.

The walk through the forest is peaceful, as it normally is. Jisung is meandering, not really in any rush, humming softly to himself as he does. He feels lighter than usual; maybe there is something to be said for crying things out sometimes. 

He’s just breached the clearing, heading for his cabin, when he hears a stick snap behind him. Not turning around, he calls, “Nice try, Woojin, but you can’t sneak up on me that easily.”

There’s no response, and he frowns. “Woojin?” He starts to turn, but before he can, there’s suddenly arms around him. He lashes out, but in the next second, a pack of men seemingly materialize from out of the trees all around the clearing. They’re all carrying visible weapons, and suddenly he just  _ knows. _

“Let me go!” he cries, thrashing in his captor’s arms. “Let me  _ go, _ you bastards!”

The man behind him chuckles, then throws him to the ground. “How’s that for letting you go?”

Jisung freezes at the voice. He would know it anywhere; it haunts his nightmares and has for many years now. “Do Hyunsoo.”

The man crouches down beside him, then harshly fists his hair and yanks his head up. “Hello, Han Jisung.”

Jisung glares at him, meeting his cruel gaze without faltering. “How did you find me?”

“It wasn’t easy. But Jinyoung accidentally slipped up, about a month ago; the man we had assigned to spy on him found you easily enough and reported back to me.”

“And now you’re here to kill me, I suppose?”

“Of course. Why else would we have bothered to track you down?”

Frantically, Jisung tries to see if there’s a way out of this. He may seem calm on the outside, but on the inside he’s panicking. “Why?” he asks, desperate to buy time. “What threat do I pose to you? I’ve lived in isolation for eight years now; I’m not about to raise an army and take you down.”

Hyunsoo sneers at him and stands up. “Any threats to the throne must be eliminated. That includes you. However,” he pauses, his words punctuated by a smirk, vicious and cruel. “I’ll consider making it less painful if you kiss my boots. It would be so nice to see: Han Seungwoo’s son bent over in deference to me.”

Defiant, even in the face of a painful death, Jisung pointedly looks away from him. “I will only bow to the  _ rightful _ king.”

Suddenly the tip of a shoe is hitting him in the side and he doubles over as all of the air leaves him. “I  _ am _ the rightful king, you brat,” Hyunsoo snarls. “I sit on the throne, not your father.”

“You,” Jisung wheezes, “will  _ never _ be the rightful king. Not so long as I live.”   
  


“Then it’s a good thing you won’t be living for much longer, isn’t it?”

Jisung has no plans, no ideas as to how he could escape this. Resigned to his fate, he lowers his head as he hears the sound of a sword sliding out of its sheath. He only wishes Woojin wouldn’t have to be the one to find him, after. He doesn’t want that to be the last memory the dragon has of him - wait.

_ Dragon. _

The clearing is far, but Woojin has advanced hearing and if he’s started on his way back by now… There’s a chance he could hear, if Jisung screamed loud enough. Desperate enough to try, he throws his head back.  _ “Woojin!” _ he screams, at the top of his lungs.  _ “Woojin, help! Help, the bad men are -” _

He’s cut off by another kick to the side, one that sends him toppling over. “Shut  _ up!” _ Hyunsoo hisses. “You think one man can help you? Are you that stupid that you would get your friend killed too?”

Jisung opens his mouth to reply, but before he can there’s a roar from the forest, louder than anything Jisung has ever heard before. He closes his eyes in relief, a smile spreading across his face. “Woojin,” he says calmly, even as Hyunsoo and his men stare at the forest with growing trepidation. “Woojin is no man.”

In the next second, there’s another roar before a humongous figure rises above the trees, blocking out the sun. Its wings are massive, its body huge, and it opens its mouth to roar again, before shooting forth a tongue of fire.

“Holy shit.” Hyunsoo’s eyes are wide. “What the fuck is that? What the  _ fuck _ is -” 

Whatever he was going to say next is lost as the dragon descends, talons out to swipe at any man it can reach. The previously confident soldiers are terrified, and they scatter like flies as they try and dodge the deadly looking claws. None are successful.

Finally all the men are dead except for Hyunsoo, who is cowering away from the beast before them. His eyes dart back and forth wildly, trying to find a way out, but the dragon takes up practically the entire clearing and it’s solely focused on him. 

Hyunsoo grows visibly more terrified as the dragon stalks towards him. He’s holding his sword but it might as well be useless for all he’s quivering. The dragon pushes one claw at his chest, and he topples over. Jisung sees the dragon open its mouth, prepared to incinerate him, and suddenly he’s hit with an overwhelming  _ need. _

“Wait!” He calls. Woojin - for who else could the dragon be? Jisung would recognize him anywhere, even when he’s suddenly forty feet taller - cocks his head, but doesn’t kill Hyunsoo just yet, and Jisung strides forward with purpose in his steps.

It’s a heady feeling, to see the man who terrorized him for so long, who murdered his entire family, lying prone on the ground. Without saying anything, Jisung marches up to him and snatched the golden circlet off his head. He holds it up, inspecting it. There’s a single ruby, the color of Woojin’s scales, inlaid at the front. He remembers this; his father used to wear it when they would go out hunting. Carefully, he places it on his own head. 

Next, he grabs Hyunsoo’s sword from where he’s dropped it. He stands over this man, this false king, this  _ murderer,  _ and he stares him in the eye, resolute in his task.

“Jisung, you wouldn’t kill me, would you? I’m family. Uncle Hyunsoo, remember?” Hyunsoo pleads, as if he had not been fully prepared to murder his nephew not five minutes before, as if he hadn’t murdered his sister and brother-in-law and niece in cold blood eight years prior. “I’ll give you back your right to the throne, I’ll let you rule, just please. Don’t kill the only family you have left.”

“You  _ murdered _ my family,” Jisung replies. “Now I’ll show you the same mercy you showed them.” Without another word, he stabs Hyunsoo, plunging the man’s own sword deep into his chest. “Long live the king,” he says viciously as the light begins to fade from Hyunsoo’s eyes.

He doesn’t bother looking long enough to see if Hyunsoo is dead. Something about this feels final and he knows, somehow, that it’s over. Besides, he has more important things to worry about.

He turns. “Woojin?” His hand is outstretched and he remembers doing this so long ago, when they first met. Woojin makes a rumbling noise deep in his chest in response, and moves so Jisung’s hand is resting on the bridge of his nose. “Jisung.”

His voice is still the same and Jisung smiles, can’t stop himself from beaming, even if sadness threatens to overtake his heart at the same time. Woojin must have found his treasure; soon he’ll leave and Jisung will never see him again. “You got bigger.”

Woojin laughs, that same huff as always. “Yes I did. Call me a stray dog now, I dare you.”

Jisung breaks into giggles and rushes forward to wrap his arms around Woojin’s neck. “Thank you so much,” he says. “You saved me.”

“Of course I did. I have to protect my treasure, don’t I?”

Wait.  _ What. _

“What did you mean you have to protect your treasure?” Jisung demands, pulling away so he can look Woojin in the eyes. “Woojin…” He doesn’t dare to hope, even if he wants to.

Woojin smiles and oh god, he’s gained more teeth, sharper teeth, jesus fuck. “Let’s go inside, away from all this. I’ll tell you everything.”

“Inside? Woojin, you won’t fit in my house any more.” Jisung laughs, but it’s almost a little frantic. “I think we’re stuck out here for the time being.”

Woojin shakes his head. “Now that my wing is healed enough to fly again, I can show you.”

“Show me what? Woojin, what are you -“

Jisung is cut off as a glowing light surrounds Woojin, and he takes a step back, shielding his eyes against the brightness. When it clears, he looks back and gasps.

Where before there stood a massive dragon, there now stands the prettiest man Jisung has ever seen. He’s broad-shouldered, with fiery red hair, and he’s shirtless, leaving Jisung with an excellent view of how muscular he is. He smiles sweetly at Jisung, and it’s like a heavenly chorus descends among them as his eyes crinkle up happily. He takes a step forward. “Jisung?”

Oh god. He’d know that voice anywhere. “Woojin?” His voice is soft, practically a whisper. It almost feels like if he talks too loudly he’ll break some kind of spell. “Woojin, is that…”

The man steps forward again and takes Jisung’s hands. His are massive, and they dwarf Jisung’s easily. Jisung tries not to think about how attractive that is. “It’s me, Jisung. It’s really me.”

“How-“ Jisung cuts himself off with a shake of his head. Almost unwillingly he finds himself reaching out to lay a hand on Woojin’s chest, feeling his heart beat beneath his palm. “How are you like this?”

“All dragons can shift into a human form,” he replies. “I haven’t been able to because of my wing, but when I found my treasure and grew, it was fully healed and now I can shift again.” His expression almost grows nervous when he says, “You don’t mind, right? You’re okay with me looking like this?”

“What - why would it matter if I was okay with you looking like this?”

“Well,” says Woojin, using his free hand to rub the back of his neck sheepishly as a blush forms on his face. “I would like to think my treasure likes how I look. I know I can’t do anything to change it, but -“

“Wait, hold on.” Jisung’s heart is going crazy and he think that he’ll actually lose his mind if he’s misunderstanding what Woojin is saying. “Are you saying that  _ I’m _ your treasure?”

Woojin smiles and reaches out to brush a gentle hand through his hair. “What else would my treasure be?”

And Jisung - Jisung has had a  _ very  _ long day and he just killed his uncle and he’s wearing a crown for the first time in eight years and now here’s the dragon he’s fallen in love with saying that he, Han Jisung, is the thing he treasures most in the world and so Jisung decides to throw caution to the wind and, with a hand on the back of Woojin’s neck, reaches up and pulls him into a kiss.

Woojin reciprocates immediately, tugging Jisung closer, if such a thing is even possible. He’s clearly very eager, and Jisung is too, and they melt into each other with a near-tangible fervor.

It doesn’t last forever, and eventually they part, although they don’t go far, resting their foreheads together. “Woojin,” Jisung says, and he sounds almost as if he’s about to cry. “Woojin, I love you.”

“Oh,  _ treasure,” _ Woojin says fiercely, pulling him in for another kiss. “I love you too.”

\- - - - - 

They go back in the house to talk, but neither one can keep their hands off the other and before long, Jisung finds himself firmly planted on Woojin’s lap.

He’s never done this before, so his actions are guided off of feeling alone. He knows that it feels good when he rocks his hips down, and so he does; he knows it feels good when Woojin kisses his neck, and so he lets him. 

He whines, high pitched and needy, when Woojin slips a hand between them. “Woojin,” he says, his head thrown back. “Woojin, please.”

Woojin smirks; Jisung can feel it where his mouth is pressed to his neck. “Please what, treasure?”

“I don’t know,” he admits. “Just  _ please.” _

“Have you ever done this before, Sungie?” Woojin asks. 

Jisung shakes his head. “No, never, Woojin,  _ please-“ _

Woojin shushes him, and strokes a hand through his hair soothingly. “Shh, Sungie. I’ll take care of you, I promise.”

They end up on the quilt in front of the hearth, the same place where they started all those months ago. Woojin is bracketed over Jisung, closing him in, and Jisung loves it, loves how the only thing he can focus on is Woojin. For a moment they just stare at each other, taking the other in. Then Woojin smiles and gently takes the circlet off Jisung’s head. He places it on the couch, then bends down for a kiss. “Let me make you feel good, my king,” he says and Jisung has never liked the titles that come with royalty, but the way Woojin says it makes him gasp, surging upwards to kiss him fiercely.

He learns this new body with hands and tongue, and Woojin learns his in return. They come together, fingers intertwined, and Jisung has never felt so loved in his life as he does in this moment.

He comes with a gasp, moaning Woojin’s name as his whole body tenses up. Above him, Woojin leans down to kiss whatever skin he can reach and Jisung arches into the touch as best he can.

“Woojin,  _ Woojin, _ love you,” he cries and that is seemingly all it takes as Woojin buries himself in Jisung and drops his head to his chest as he rides out his orgasm. When they’ve both finished, they just lay there for awhile, neither willing to move and break the tranquility of this moment. Finally Woojin shifts, pulls out of Jisung, and they both groan at the feeling. 

Woojin doesn’t go far, just grabs a cloth and dips it in the water bucket Jisung keeps in the house, using it to wipe them off. Then he tosses it to the side and sinks back onto the quilt, pulling Jisung into his arms. A kiss, soft and sweet, is pressed to Jisung’s forehead and then Woojin whispers, “Love you too, treasure.”

And in that moment, Jisung swears his life is perfect.

\- - - - -

Later, they move to curl up together in Jisung’s bed. It’s a little weird - he’s on top of Woojin’s chest for once instead of the other way around. Still, there’s that same sense of warmth and comfort as always, and now he can steal a kiss whenever he wants (which is often; Jisung isn’t ashamed to admit he’s a greedy man). 

They both explain everything - Jisung tells Woojin how he was fifteen when his uncle staged a coup against his father, the king. Woojin tells Jisung about how he heard his cry for help and it was like he just  _ knew,  _ even before he began to grow.

“So what now?” Jisung asks after they’ve both lapsed into silence. His fingers trail lazily across Woojin’s bare stomach.

“You can’t stay here.” Woojin says with finality. He’s right, and they both know it, even if Jisung’s heart aches at the thought of leaving his home. “Do you want to go back to your kingdom?”

The answer to that is a resounding ‘no’ and Jisung tells Woojin as much. “I was never supposed to be king anyways,” he admits. “My sister was first in line; she got all the training needed to rule, while I got to do whatever I wanted. I wouldn’t know what to do with the throne.”

“If you don’t want to go back, you could always come to my home and live with me?”

“Really?”

Woojin nods. “My family would welcome you happily. Obviously, it’s all up to you; I’ll follow you wherever you go. But you would be safe there; no more looking over your shoulder, no more hiding. A fresh start, with me.”

“A fresh start,” Jisung muses. A slow smile graces his lips. “With you. Oh, Woojin. That sounds  _ wonderful.”  _

**Author's Note:**

> ahhh I'm so excited to finally have this fic finished!! I hope you all enjoy it.
> 
> my prompt number was #100. I ended up editing the original prompt a little bit, but I hope the prompter is still happy with the end result!!
> 
> also once names and stuff are revealed I'm probably gonna write a smutty sequel about what happens to them when they go to Woojin's home and meet all the other members, cause that was supposed to happen in this fic but I ran out of time whoops.
> 
> please leave kudos and comments, they keep me motivated to keep writing!!


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